Jumapili, 31 Desemba 2017

ATWOOD FRANK

I don't know if I ever shared this before, but here is the prologue and the first two chapters of a Book I'm thinking of writing, if God's willing after I finish Book 3 of Buck Trent, named Truthful New World:

PROLOUGE

Revelation 1 8:
I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.

* * * * *
Earth is hell, but nobody believed it until they woke on the morning of January 1, 2030. Overnight the world had been changed. The slate of man’s accomplishments wiped out in the blink of an eye, for some entire cities lay desolate and dead for those who woke in darkness covered in grey ash that hid the sun’s rays.
From a simple pencil to sophisticated buildings and intricate cars developed over decades had disappeared overnight, or had they? Animals, small and large had been removed, as the world’s most dangerous inhabitant survived.
Completely naked, and completely void of any social restrictions whatsoever, man awoke to find himself and others around him, all on an equal basis.
There was world talk before that morning, the rapture was supposed to have taken place on December 31, 2029. The day had come and gone, finding many were spiritually devastated as though their faith had deceived them. Man’s own arrogance had always assumed they knew God. Man’s God had been wrapped in so many different colored boxes and sold to the deceived masses which thwarted real truth few ever found. Any who dare refuse to think or believe differently than they were taught by their leaders, found their hearts wrapped in fear and guilt, not wonderment and joy when they awoke.
The cities were hit the hardest. People had been scattered throughout the land who had fallen asleep the night before, survived whatever it was that had come upon them through the night, while those who were awake at the same time, whether on a job or just sitting at home, died. All those who slept, awakened finding themselves lying in green grasses, some not knowing where or who  they were or how they even got there, as only certain chosen cities were left intact, void of all human life.
All awoke on two different playing fields. Some knew their first name only, while others knew not who they were upon awakening. The other difference was some sensed their nakedness and were horrified as their ties to the old world still lingered within them, while others awoke not worried one way or the other whether they were clothed or not. Those horrified about their nakedness knew their names and scrambled to fight over the clothed dead’s garments.
Throughout the United States, the only built structures besides a few emptied cities were correctional facilities of America, whose prisoners were truly a captured audience.
One death row inmate in Folsom Prison, a Muslim named Mustafa Mohammad slated for execution seized the moment and stripped the dead guards of all their clothes, making himself a general overnight. He was immediately followed by over five-hundred prisoners who decided to follow him.
Without material things or money to steal, Mohammad knew and understood control of the masses would be a high priority. When it came to mercy, Mustafa knew none. He had been freed by an unknown entity from the hands of infidels and gave him an army to rule over.
The world and its morality had been thrown upside down overnight. The elites, the rich, the rulers of old were as nothing to those whose meager lives hated such things connected to a dark status which dwelled within their black hearts like an un-curable cancer which readily diminishes ones process to think rationally after so much wealth and power. For now power was no more as it had been eradicated. Individual hearts and souls now sought others like themselves to be around.
Mustafa was born for this day, and thus came about the name he put upon his followers. For his cannibalistic ways would not only feed his army but put a new fear in the hearts of any who’d resist him.
There only opposition would come from the meek and the handicapped, of the past world, whose presence were feared yet masqueraded purposely under an ignorance laid down by a society that exploited differences in people, by keeping them held behind closed walls of institutions disguised to help, but designed as lab rats for a more modern society who had learned to use compassion and love as the ultimate Trojan horse for gaining sympathy from the masses who followed blindly the art of soft-speak, fake compassion and love, without really listening to the truths within each action taken, which inevitably brought on an event that changed everything in the blink of an eye none truly expected, let alone were ready for.
Not all minds were free from the past teachings, to open up to new positive truths and knowledge which would have never before been accepted in the world of worldly men who only talked of the physical, not the invisible.
Soon those of old and those of the new, would inevitably meet, setting up an apocalyptic consultation which would bring together all things pertinent to flesh, enhanced with the invisible power which would lead all to an un-known future tied to the rising of a Truthful New World.
* * * * *
Nag Hammadi Scriptures: The Gospel of Philip, Light and Darkness (52-53, 14)
Light and darkness, life and death, and right and left are siblings of one another and inseparable. For this reason the good are not good, the bad are not bad, life is not life, and death is not death. Each will dissolve into its original nature, but what is superior to the world cannot be dissolved, for it is eternal.

Introduction

Albert Stanford and Mustafa Mohammad were no more equal than a bull and a mouse. Both were total opposites from the old world, each an inkling of the new world within them. Both would meet, and from it would emerge an apocalyptic consultation, setting forth the merging of good and evil where neutrality didn’t exist. From it would begin a process of birth which had been taking place before man even knew he existed, the creation of a New World.

Pearls of Great Price: Moses 1: 38. And as one earth shall pass away, and the heavens thereof even so shall another come; and there is no end to my works, neither to my words.

Chapter 1

THE DAY OF THE LORD

(Holy Bible) St. Luke 12: 40 be ye therefore ready also: for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not.
* * * * *
The morning of December 31st 2029 was not a day of celebration as it had been five years earlier. It was another day of suicide bombings, and the last one took out the only TV station working off of backup generators, which barely got news to the city limits of Los Angeles County.
America’s electrical grid had been blown up two years earlier under one of the most strategic attacks ever deployed by any Jihadist group still raging war against the west.
Thirty well placed suicide bombers simultaneously took out ten separate power facilities along with their supporting substations up and down the west coast.
It was just three months earlier a large nuclear warhead had been exploded in the atmosphere over the east coast which put everything east of the Mississippi into darkness. Immediately upon that day all planes stopped flying in the west as an assurance the same couldn’t happen to them.
The smoke from constant bombings, mixed with long-dead volcanoes awakened throughout all fifty states like clockwork for the past six months, spewing out ash and soot into the atmosphere keeping the entire west coast in constant darkness, rendering solar generators obsolete.
What was left of mankind had adapted to the hazy gray floating ash which kept the sun from shinning for many who remained trapped in-doors. Unlike Albert Stanford, born blind and autistic, while crippled at birth through muscular dystrophy. His world never involved worldly things normal people experienced as his whole senseless life was contained within his own private room, at Camarillo Mental Facility on the outskirts of Santa Barbara, California.
Born premature and abnormal, into a rich family, Albert was immediately placed under a state conservatorship to be taken care of after only six months of life. According to medical brain scans his mental capacity was to remain that of a three year old mentally deficient child. His family, being of political status at the time, didn’t need the publicity of another scandal as they signed away all their parental rights to the state to keep it hush hush, as they paid whatever fee was requested to keep Camarillo afloat as long as Albert lived.
Though blind, he wasn’t deaf, and had exceptional hearing abilities. He heard all sounds, yet understood none of them, though his mind’s eye flashed mental pictures against a backdrop in the darkest hollows of his brain. Verbal talking sounds appeared as shadowy silhouetted images to his mind, which retained them automatically as they danced in his head and became implanted in his memory of which he could never share with another. These mental images always kept him happy and free as he felt his way through life one day at a time.
Though he couldn’t speak, he gurgled when he tried to communicate with other’s who usually ignored him as he was pushed in his wheelchair by those conversing.
Even in different languages or tones. He couldn’t discern when a person was mad or happy as he’d pick up a word here and there, no matter what language his brain heard, his mind always added pictures to his collection of shadowy images which had become a library of information by the time he turned twenty one years of age.
How accurate was his library of information? Even he didn’t know for it was only in his mind and no man could access it but him who put it there. And God wasn’t prepared to give it to natural men for their world, for he had tried, and mankind pushed it off as fantasy.
Albert knew nothing of the war around him, or outside of the building he’d been in all his life. Having only been outside, in an open square in the center of the building he was contained in, a few times as a child, he never cared much for it as it seemed he’d always get wet when he was left alone just before a rain storm would hit. His two experiences left him hating to be in the open at all and whenever he thought he was being taken to the square to be outside, he’d throw a tantrum by flailing his bent arms and twisted fingers as he gurgled as loud as he could, for as long as it took for them to understand he didn’t want to be outside at all as he flailed around uncontrollably in his wheelchair.
He never watched television reports on surviving a super volcano or listen to the radio tell where people could go to get clean bottled water before all media ceased. Albert was never concerned about anything happening outside his room let alone the mental facility.
He was always in his own world, void of anger, hate, wars and everyday busyness of what society considered normal behavior living in a world gone completely mad through political correctness, and dirty politics which skewered anyone who dared to upset the applecart of a society controlled by an Elite power structure being toppled by a slow awakening of a silent majority who’s power rose early, before a dirty bomb wiped out Washington D.C. entirely, removing a great societal cancer which had spread throughout the world, making Albert’s flailing tantrums merely miniscule compared to the craziness of a world turned upside down.
Albert had not the capacity to learn to read, but was always scanning pictures through his fingertips, as he’d brush his crooked disfigured extremities lightly across a magazine cover and smile as somehow magically pictures materialized before the mind’s eye and became planted in a library of images, with no names, were stored in his brain, which became a part of his soul.
Each picture formed and stored in his mind was always followed by a wave of a low level electrical flow that entered from the top of his head and ran through his entire body, exiting through the bottom of his feet, leaving a good feeling inside that warmed him, verifying its truthfulness.
The staffs laughing at him never bothered him as they’d watch him finger all books they’d put in his hands, from porno magazines to mechanical engineering design books, as he’d smile and gurgle over them while fingering through pages he could never see, as if he was reading braille.

On this particular day he was exceptionally happy as he had sensed it was time for his monthly therapy in a special room where he was wired and given jolts of electric current. The streams of electricity helped him relax and dream in color, as all the pictures stored in his brain would become clearer in-between each jolt which surged through his brain and body. He was always amazed by the sad faces of those who cleared up those pictures for him.
Unlike the impulses received whenever a picture was introduced, he couldn’t comprehend the dosage of electrical amps given him each month which strengthened his weak pathetic muscles in ways his mind couldn’t grasp, let alone any doctor who gave them to him.
Never having control over his muscles from birth, he never considered the good happening to him as those around him never noticed how much strength he had been gaining in his fingers. Having to always drink through a straw, he had not the ability to hold any aluminum can, or even a paper cup. When placed in his hand he had not the grip to even lift it empty, let alone hold it when full.
One this particular day, not only did he grasp a paper cup, but when no one was watching he lifted it an inch off the tray and set it back down, which made him especially happy. When he heard a nurse enter his room, he tried to show her what he could do, but couldn’t find the cup and when he did he was so excited he knocked it off the tray unto the floor.
His gurgles were ignored as usual and when they took his tray away they left, not realizing he had done something great and no one saw it.
As he lay in his bed, tears swelled within his eyes as he knew categorically without doubt, there was something out there more powerful than he or those who cared for him. He knew his minor feat was nothing in the real world and was unmentionable by many who would have seen it. The more he relaxed the stronger his confidence grew within him as he sensed things were about to change. He never realized how right he was as he slowly fell asleep, curled in the same fetal position he’d slept in his entire life.

* * * * *
Albert Stanford dreamed a voice in a soothing light filled with love had called his first name only, leaving him knowing he was his father’s Son. A truth he never realized till Albert awoke feeling himself naked huddled and intertwined amongst others void of clothing as well, as he was stunned he could see, having been blind all his life, till now. Once he had untangled himself from those entwined with him, he gawked at his new muscular body, seeing it for the first time with his new eyes.
An entire world of blurry blue skies and green pastures void of cities and highways were before him, as memories of pictures imprinted in his head touched his mind, as Albert started to walk towards an open field not knowing why or what he would do once he reached it, yet, he held up from taking that first step just long enough for a past memory of his life to touch his mind for the spark of a moment, leaving a slight aura of humility upon him.
A smile appeared on his strong masculine face and humbleness filled his heart as he stood erect and flexed his well-muscled body as he took in a deep breath, exhaled and looked up into the blue sky above, slowly coming into focus as a quiet serenity filled the aura around him and peace touched his soul, soothing his mind at that very moment, for he knew who he was. He was just one of his father’s sons, not caring or even thinking of who his father was, as of yet.
When Albert new eyes focused upon those he was entangled with, he noticed upon them not even one looked his way or acknowledged his presence as if he was invisible, and yet, he knew he was as real if not more real, than they who avoided him.
He began dancing in circles and flinging his muscular arms and legs freely about with every muscle in his body under his control, while shouting words, not knowing from where they came, “I’m my Father’s Son who’s thrilled to be alive and whole,” he kept repeating over and over again.
It felt and sounded good to hear his own voice whether anyone heard him or not, yet humbled him enough to see himself lesser than those who ignored him.
The scent of fresh green grass under his feet felt soft as he stopped dancing and lied down upon the two inch high blades and spread eagled himself, as he began opening and closing his arms and legs as if to make a green snow angel in the tall lush grassy field.
He stopped speaking for a while and closed his eyes, and just listened to the silence. How long the silence was he didn’t know for time was of no concern, and that’s when he heard the voice.
“We are one you and I. Yet I am everything that’s of the past and the future, which neither exists but soon will.”
Albert sat up and looked around as a warm feeling accompanied the voice which was filled with a love that saturated his soul. It left him humbled, yet not perplexed, but happy. For though no one was close enough to speak them, he knew the words were meant for him and him alone, as the same loving voice touched his mind again with a word, GOD. Albert knew not what God meant, yet was not perplexed, or in need to share it with anyone else.
Without knowing why he began walking again, to where he did not know or care, as he knew he was being guided and feared nothing as negatives didn’t exist at all.

(Pistis Sophia) 1st Book, Chapter, 46: 4. O Light show me thy ways and I shall be saved in them; and show me thy paths, whereby I shall be saved out of the chaos.

Chapter 2

THE AWAKENING

(Holy Bible) Amos 9: 14. And I will bring again the captivity of my people of the New Jerusalem, and they shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make the gardens, and eat the fruit.

Void of negatives, Albert appreciated a feeling within for his new life, which he sensed would be a worthy one as he made his first step towards the vacant city before him. Unafraid and filled with positive knowledge Albert became a captive to a designed destiny created before man ever walked the earth.
He felt no bodily desires for food, water or any cravings connected to eating. Such desires to sustain one’s body didn’t exist for him. When he moved forward on his new healthy limbs, he moved as though he’d walked his entire life.
When Albert neared others who had awakened as he did, if their auras didn’t match they’d move away without even making eye contact. He soon knew if an aura matched his they’d fall in line with him.
All moved away but one who joined him, yet he knew not to look back. By the time he felt he was away from the others, he turned and saw only one other following him, a woman.
“You’re Albert,” she said.
“And you’re Suzie,” said Albert.
In tandem they both spoke, looking at each other, ignoring each other’s nakedness and said, “My father told me your name.”
“How many do you think will join?” asked Suzie.
“Doesn’t matter,” replied Albert.
Suzie smiled, knowing he was right.
Albert and Suzie cared not how many would join, for in time they knew their numbers would grow and so would the peaceable feeling surrounding them.
Those whose auras matched would soon be called, The Harmonistics.

(Book of Mormon) 2Nephi, 8: 7. Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness, the people in whose heart I have written my law, fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be afraid of their revilings.

* * * * *

(Holy Bible) Revelation 17: 14. These shall make war with the lambs and the lambs shall overcome them:

After a brutal beating by a bevy of prison guards who rendered him unconscious the night before while being held in solitary confinement in California’s infamous Folsom Prison.
Mustafa Mohammad awakened naked and speechless, lying within the prison’s open courtyard, not remembering anything but his name, while not knowing how he had gotten there.
Upon gathering his sense, he scowered the facility and quickly noticed amongst all the dead, both guards and prisoners were still clothed as all who had survived the night were as naked as he was, but quickly knew, by the startled look on the survivors faces, told him, they knew not any more than he did, but soon he’d learn they knew even less.
He listened intently to the eerie quietness within the dark atmosphere that hung over the prison like a heavy blanket. The quietness was deafening and frightening as well as uncomfortable. He felt an anger building within, and knew not why. Without thought, he faced east, dropped to his knees and humbly thanked an unknown entity with a moment of humility for keeping him alive from whatever it was that passed over the prison overnight and freed him, along with all other prisoners as all cell doors were opened.
While praying, he heard footsteps behind him as he rose to face others who were as naked as he.
“Who are we and what is this place?” said one of the men who spoke for all others.
“You know not where you are?” replied Mustafa.
The man’s eyes were blank and soulless. “I have no name, nor do I know who or where I am.”
Mustafa headed back towards the courtyard as all followed him. Once in the huge yard, he faced all before him with a voice so loud it echoed throughout the prison as all listened.
“My name is Mustafa Mohammad. Allah has saved us for a purpose. Since I alone remember my name, it is a sign of my power over all who gather today. We are to rule over all who do not choose to become one with us. A new world has come. The meek shall cower before us, for it is ours.”
“My name is Bonze. I also remember my name,” said a voice from amongst those standing before him.
“Show yourself to me, and join me as one of my generals, for any who remember their name, have been chosen to stand beside me,” said Mustafa as the crowd parted and a big Black stepped out to face Mustafa.
The big Black, dropped to his knees and prayed silently also, then stood.
Mustafa moved towards Bonze, and stopped a few feet from him. “I notice you did not face east when you bowed. So to whom do you pray?”
Bonze smiled at Mustafa. “I pray to an entity with no name who freed me also. I serve the same as you.”
“And I pray also,” said another from the crowd, as both men’s attention turned towards another parting of the masses, which had now grown to over five hundred prisoners. From it came a Caucasian, whose size matched both Mustafa and Bonze.
“What is your name?” asked Mustafa.
“Colt, my name is Colt, and I know to whom I pray. I am called a Christian which means every word I speak is tied to the truths of the old world teachings, and yes we are all tied to the same Master who has deemed us all to survive in this new world we are about to build from this point forward.”
Without saying a word, or knowing why, Mustafa walked over to one of the clothed dead guards his size, and began removing the clothes from the motionless corpse. Watching, Colt and Bonze did the same. When all three were dressed, Mustafa raised his hands over his head.
“There are not as many clothed here as there are of us. Any who wish to follow us are welcome. You who wish to remain naked may, for it will not be held against you, for once we leave these walls, anyone who we come upon who does not, or will not join us freely, shall be our enemy. And should hunger touch our bellies, as food is no more, for this also I know, then they who refute us shall be devoured by us and their bones used as weapons in our hands.”
Mustafa’s last words set off a spark within a few of the prisoners who quickly hurried towards the dead and began gathering clothes, while others chose to remain naked.
“We shall eventually be called Thyestians,” said Mustafa, not knowing why he said it or what the word, Thyestian meant. “And we shall become known in time as the Thyestian Horde.”
Before long, all the prisoners stepped from the prison into the surrounding landscape, where they could see in the distance, the dark smoke hovering over dead cities before them, incased in darkness not knowing what they would find once they reached them.

(The Nag Hammadi Scriptures) - Book of Thomas;
Our Own and The Others; - The Savior said, “To tell the truth, do not think of these as human beings, but regard them as animals. As animals devour each other, so people like this devour each other. They are deprived of the kingdom since they love the delight of fire and are slaves of death and rush to do deeds of corruption.

Jumatatu, 25 Desemba 2017

ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE

Credited  to Plato's Allegory of the Cave.

ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE

Illusions illuminate realities
Like the light illuminating skies
Frontal focal bond inculcates realities
Realities residing from lies and ignorance.

Hollow heads haunt hasty haughty
Deceiving in truth and courage mind
Raising platform to perishing race
Naked really but count worn nice.

Images are perceived as real objects
Trivial and false are realities onsets
Truth is the cacophony stubborn hordes
Killing of the saviour is function to praise.

Light disturbs the trivial vision in vain
Light slowly takes trivial to its destination
Sacrifice restores the buried deafen mind
Eternity perish dwells in blackened mind.

Ijumaa, 22 Desemba 2017

WHEN MY LAST TEARDROP FALLS

WHEN MY LAST TEARDROP FALLS

When my last trail of teardrop falls
Then my past thought will have fallen
When my thought stands majestically
Then my mind will have captured peace.

Tears tease and kiss the faultless cheeks
Fears freeze my victory's wings to victory
Fears please my darkened mind to fate
Leers leaven thy disastrous fight to loose.

Things fall apart erode to amalgamation
This war appeals tigers to justification
Adventures erode mind to hopeless
Like an eclipse, mind pays attention.

A lonely battle of a lonely brave breath
A loosing battle is hidden behind skies
A loosing but scarily sentry to humanity
A hooking cascade to tear off the jaws.

#poetregnardbishoza#

Alhamisi, 7 Desemba 2017

ON THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS SEASON

ON THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS SEASON

Christmas eve,night of hark and jubilation
Wrapped itself like a shawl wrapping baby
Warmly hearted welcoming King of peace
In Bethlehem, Virgin Mary gave birth
To Jesus, saviour of the chained souls.

God stepped in sending an Angel,Gabriel
To Joseph with a bizarre message
God has given Mary a wonderful baby
To be named Emmanuel, God with us!
Jesus was born in a humble circumstance
In a manger surrounded by animals!

Thereby, Jesus grew up with a mission
A mission to save the world from its sin
To save souls from the valleys of death
Declaring victory in God's overwhelming
Overwhelming love to guilty world men.

Christmas is charitable time and kindness
A time of forgiving, declaring peace
A time of kindling a fire of hospitality
A time of the genial flame of charity
In the hearts and souls of created people.

Christmas is a time for nostalgia
Time for making new beautiful memories
Christmas, a festival of cheer and joy
Anticipating angelic sacred seasons
Triumphant of wondrous wintertimes.

Christmas, a festival of generosity
A festival of gift wrapping
Miraculous and joyous religious holiness
A festival of compassion
A festival of wearing one's shoes and help.

Jumatatu, 4 Desemba 2017

BLACK BEAUTIFUL QUEEN

POEM: BEAUTIFUL BLACK QUEEN
POET: REGNARD BISHOZA

Your hair is midnight - black
Your hair flows over your shoulders.

You have honey sweet lips
They have saccharine sweet lips
They are blossom soft.

You have demure personality
You have a bubbly outlook
Kidult clothes in an offbeat way.

You have wasp - waisted
Your eyelashes are velvety.

You have halo-white teeth
Your set of dazzling, angel-white teeth
Gleam as you blow gently
On your carmine-white fingers nails
It is a pleasure to see you flowing
Moon shadow-black hairs.

You have a decanter shaped waist
Your complexion has an impeccable
An impeccable ochrous hue.

When you break into a smile
Your beguiling oyster white teeth
Lit up the darkened chambers.

Your calamine-pink lips
Taste like rose petals
As sweet as any songbird.

Your vaguish clothes still kept
Captive an aroma redolent
Of cinnamon and meadow-fresh mint.

Jumatano, 29 Novemba 2017

PHENOMENAL LOVE

PHENOMENAL LOVE

I love thee
Thy love shalt not die
Till the stars grow old
Till the sun grows cold
Till the Indian ocean dries.

How do I love thee!
Let me count the ways
Let my brain gather memories
I love thee to the depth
I love thee to the breadth
I love thee to the height.

I carry your heart with me
I am nothing without it
My heart grabs you so tightly
That my heartbeats sing in melodies
Your angelic value out of contamination.

You are a morning star, my star
I will dream of you all night until morning
I celebrate your birthday everyday
I am addicted to your throbbing kisses
You're my most beautiful someone
An angel descended from heaven.

My passionate kiss captures conscious
I buy gift for no reason for you
I quenched my thirst at your fountain
The fountain of kisses splashing openly
Like the splash of spring water down hill.

There's illuminating moon in the evening
But when you leave, it hides behind cloud
To let darkness cover the clear sky
To let my heart walk into total darkness
Like the blind lost in a daylight at walks.

Jumapili, 26 Novemba 2017

MOTHER OF THE STARVING CHILD

MOTHER OF THE STARVING CHILD

Hear not what am crying
Bear not what am plighting
Fear not what am suffering
For the world has turned back
Chewing me to death and whack.

Weep out your golden weeping tears
For I am growing away from your ears
Seek nothing but peace of your mind
For the world has taken part to patronage
Because I must accept bitter and sweet.

My screams and groans're worthy hidden
Away from your merciful loving caring heart
My tears are sweet to hold heart to grabby
Outcast sympathy and find out confidence
Like rocky plains, harden your soul wrench

Mother of the starving child, hold a smile
For I am gone to war, but will come safely
For I am no longer breast feed  young kid
For I opulently struggle for better day end
Writing history over the red sky above end

SERENDIPITOUS INSANITY

SERENDIPITOUS INSANITY

When mind finds its fair destiny
Offtrack the realm of world morality
Sanity finds destiny in darkened vain
Sensing hotness in coldness and comfort
Do(s) and don't(s) loose direction and lost

Insanity in a sanity mind is a catalyst
Immorality in morality is worthy insanity
Disciplined mind exits from natural mind
Political animal finds its essence in crazy
Craziness of innocence lost in darkness.

What if insanity is satisfactoriness state?
What if insanity is immoral hinges state?
Tattering in tedious nature of God's state
To hell be blasphemy emerging from fairness
Blessed is a moral being living in morality.

Insanity grows like fire burning the forest
Insanity blows sanity, dying like the piglet
World is the home of restless out of sanity
Spirit looses life in absence of scriptures
Like hibiscus, spirit blossoms in scriptures

WHEN I JOIN ANCESTORS

WHEN I JOIN ANCESTORS

Come and tear thy corpse into pieces
How can tear remove desperations?
When I join ancestors, it is the last minute
The last minute to air thy stubborn voices
Like the final bullet to silence flickering.

When I join the bodiless multitude
Carry thy deceased and wrap it
Into the old sack and hang it
Label it "THE KING OF EVIL"
For I shamed thou mercilessly.

Like a commissar, blow your whistle
Invite the men eaters to commune
Sharing my inedible body and die
For I am a poison to kill the evils
I am a fort of rocks, can't perish.

When I join ancestors
Come and I will show you the way
Come and we shall be mutual friends
I will show you light in darkness you lived
Killing not the innocents and'll live peace.

Like the like poles we repelled each other
I tried to attract you but you remained far
You sent fire rays and I was burnt badly
Like the burning saucepan you fried me
When I join ancestors come and celebrate

THE ROAMING BIRD

THE ROAMING BIRD

Flew over mountains
Grew higher to spies
Spies in lost directions
I spoke to my sincere bird
And mounted to nearby heaven
My sincere bird lost direction.

The roaming bird, the lost bird
Flied over mountains down hill
Found fine flying valleys in vain
Looked left looked right and rose
To touch the blue sky for comfort rest
My flying bird lost direction in renegade.

Wind and waves welcomed bird warmly
My flying bird felt tired before the dawns
My flying bird felt coldness of snow falls
My flying bird lost a branch for perching
Swaying its wings like the rotating mortar
Looking down terribly from above higher.

My flying bird perched over sky in disguise
Trees, mountains were hidden in distance
Flying bird swallowed by snow and fainted
On skies it was lost, carrying heart hidden
Life was taken by  poor flying higher bird
Earth never knew the presence of my bird.

NOSTALGIA

NOSTALGIA

World surrounded by blossoming smiles
The world blasted with extreme cries
All for all counting nostalgic times
Call for world essence and natures
From eras of errors to eras of fairs.

Nostalgic eras
Mind would travel swaying over plains
Mind would think in zero distances
Like the madman, time was for eyes
Nostalgia, a song to be sang in idleness.

Nostalgic eras
Eras of loop holes and hook nots
Hackers of happiness and shabbiness
Self judgement lost and roasted minds
Dances of rainy seasons were pleasures.

Nostalgic eras
Eras of destiny creation in one's alutas
Chasing fate in lonely death and prospers
Eras of laughter from evil spirits in men
Like shipwreck, soul was spared in agony
Focusing battles of belated soul to retell.

Nostalgic eras
Eras of angelic life
Eras of childish life
Eras of hugs and thuggish
Eras of sweet and bitter living
Eras of lazy thinking spoonfeeding.

OKIGBO

THE LEGACY OF CHRISTOPHER OKIGBO

When I firstly knew you
Brain amalgamated to you
Reincarnated by grandpa soul
Affinity, an Igbo deity of Idoto
Personified in the river that flows through
Prominent water goddess of eastern zoo.

Achebe's mouth unhesitatingly testified
Your reputation as versatile athlete
A gifted pianist, college of Ibadan
Made forays into art and poetry
Wrapping African writers
Into a pot of negritude.

Your life in passionate intensity
Your life touched the African souls
Living strongly as Nigerian keyboard
With strong passion to change the world
Missioned in transforming African history
Looking like virgin moon in eastern sky

You're a shrub among the poplars
Needing roots thirsting for sunlight
Like the papyrus reed of the lake
Your belief would be uprooted
Your kindles still inflame
In heartbeats of blacks

Jumatatu, 30 Oktoba 2017

WHAT IF

WHAT IF

What if the brilliant minds
Sought to be buried in hell
Like the hidden treasure
Finding life in dark area?

What if the light illumination
Caught in dark agglutination?
What if delight delays in agony?
What if mind freedom dies in agony?

What if the crippled gains strength
Walking in majesty like knight soldiers?
What if the mind climbs and cling highest?
Weak minds reach higher to shake castles?

What if the world finds rest in restlessness?
What if the world flies to wrenching hells?
Cosmic rays find destination toward earth
Innocent creatures die innocently and hell

The buffalo of world wickedness knocks
Knocks down men like the falling balloons
Eyes of righteousness are hidden beneath
Beneath the horizon of civilized humanity.

Jumamosi, 21 Oktoba 2017

A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

Here we are for we are whom we are
Sons and daughters of the land we are
Fears and worries are uninvited guests
Like the showers of rain from open space
Smile and bliss are hidden behind space
Opening pages of restless and crucifixions.

For we are born outside illuminations
For we are born in shores of peripheries
We are the radars to let smooth upstairs
For we are stairs to let them ascend
We are the forgotten race of hospitalities
We are born in mangers of public dirties
We are born in dustbins to keep trashes.

Our eyes see nothing but the trivialities
Our bodies wear nothing but parched skins
Our backs hold our empty stomachs
Our lungs respire nothing but stinking
Our peace is found in bloodshed grounds
Our satisfactions are found in cannibals.

Because we are the second class beings
Our bread is rotten and leftovers tatters
They fight like bulls and we die like Jesus
We consume what we don't do produce
We bear, our sweat evaporates to skies
For we are who we are for our noble fate.

Our land is the battle ground to summon
To summon winners and the defeated
Our land is shaved to emptiness like
Like the professional barber playing
Playing in naughty to the poor head
We see tomorrow in our absence
For we are in the not our presence.

I TOO, SING AFRICA.

Alhamisi, 19 Oktoba 2017

AFRICAN POET

AFRICAN POET

African poet
Soaks his body
Into African pot
Glorifies African land
In scintillating rhymes
Flowing from out spout source.

African poet
Deities Africa to glory
Identifies Africa to extremity
Expresses cultural shock to renaissance
Reminiscence of past is delicately upheld.

African poet
Futilizes fighting over race
Restoring dignity to Africans
Orphans in strange lands overseas
Respect and national identity prevail
Advocate for universal brotherhood
And sisterhood for universal oneness.

African poet
Is engulfed by endless inspiration
Insights and negritude drives dwell
Fiercely anger erupts against racists
Who openly rape the heart of humanity
And wear masks to maintain superiority.

African poet
Smiles with Africa
Cries with Africa
Dies in agony with Africa
Rebirth with Africa
Flows ink for life in Africa.

African poet
Paints love in Africa
Black beauty beautiful blacks
Depicts how he sank into love to African
Remained in the shores of African beach
Surrendered his heart to the only African.

A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

Here we are for we are whom we are
Sons and daughters of the land we are
Fears and worries are uninvited guests
Like the showers of rain from open space
Smile and bliss are hidden behind space
Opening pages of restless and crucifixions.

For we are born outside illuminations
For we are born in shores of peripheries
We are the radars to let smooth upstairs
For we are stairs to let them ascend
We are the forgotten race of hospitalities
We are born in mangers of public dirties
We are born in dustbins to keep trashes.

Our eyes see nothing but the trivialities
Our bodies wear nothing but parched skins
Our backs hold our empty stomachs
Our lungs respire nothing but stinking
Our peace is found in bloodshed grounds
Our satisfactions are found in cannibals.

Because we are the second class beings
Our bread is rotten and leftovers tatters
They fight like bulls and we die like Jesus
We consume what we don't do produce
We bear, our sweat evaporates to skies
For we are who we are for our noble fate.

Our land is the battle ground to summon
To summon winners and the defeated
Our land is shaved to emptiness like
Like the professional barber playing
Playing in naughty to the poor head
We see tomorrow in our absence
For we are in the not our presence.

I TOO, SING AFRICA

Poet: Regnard Bishoza
Country: Tanzania

Ijumaa, 13 Oktoba 2017

THE CURSING BREEZE

THE CURSING BREEZE

Breeze blew from western plains
Destroying nature like earthquakes
Striking beings causing loneliness
Deserted land witnessing emptiness.

The cursing breeze caused shipwrecks
Cries of the dying souls everywhere else
The landscape beauty was turned dry
White snow fell to cover the black land.

Cursing breeze smiled to brainwashing
Blowing amidst minds of the hollowness
From bark cloth to technical garment of lost cultures
Breeze darkened minds to most trivial.

Desperation and genuine gigantic gaze
Grew to oscillating move in human mindset
Holding awful and fake breeze so tightly
Like the mother clutching her child to her chest.

Ijumaa, 6 Oktoba 2017

A LUTA CONTINUA

A LUTA CONTINUA

Mysterious pressing to destiny
Indigenous purpose pends
Hope is lost in vain
Letting fatality end.

What if light is hidden in darkness?
What if pressing turns to reverse?
Should the footsteps turn back?
And get lost into innocent perish?
Hold your back and find your destiny.

Let mountains be crushed to flour-like
Let obstacles be smooth paths and rest
Hang your worries and find courageous
Write down history over the plain skies
Let smiles shade out tears of tremendous
Tremendous failures and hope looseness.

Bright future is the hidden press headings
Demands illumination for identifications
Find water from blood and find tranquillity
Spill over the residues of mind darkness
Seal your naked brain with corpus thought
For you're born to let false wear realities.

A luta continua, after incredibilities spout
Amour confers and restores peace out
Forward ever coward never and for sound
Admirable destination is home of criers
Blood of righteous is a song of strugglers
Restores dignity to the despised souls.

I AM NOT GUILTY

I AM NOT GUILTY

Was born to be free
On earth of righteous
Stop child abuse ooh men
Stop hunting kids ooh men
For I am a human, not a beast.

I am lost of my rights virginity
I am killed and abused dignity
Like the dawn my life survives
In worries I find my hope terrain
I weep bloody tears from sound beating.

I am an angel, an innocent one
I have the highest dignity one
Find not richness through my
Poor labour, killing my living
I too have tomorrow like you
I too admire the bright futures
I too have a bright and dreams.

A child is a prince and princess
A kid is loved by God from eras
Fling not my poor innocent body
Send me to school for knowledge
I will mount the radar and advocate
For the social welfare and betterment.

You too were the child like me
You are the master and reputable
You were grown fairly and meekly
Love was the song you heard daily
You smiled to the countless teeth
Like an egg you're delicately treated
There's no more tortures and labours
Hold my hand and I will be spared
Hold my hand ooh men
Hold my hand ooh men.

Ijumaa, 22 Septemba 2017

WHEN MY MIND SMILES

WHEN MY MIND SMILES

My thought has tasted sweet
Transferring it to the mystery
When my mind attain smiles
Like that of the blossoming parrot
I have enthroned a throne in palace.

When my mind wins smiles
Passion has overwhelmed
My heart is broken in pieces
Like destructed by flickering
I hold smile to overcome pains.

Smiles hide the dying souls
Caging them like broods
Under the hen's wings
Finding rest from vain
Running away from rain.

Jumapili, 17 Septemba 2017

JEWELLERY IN RUSTING

YOU ARE THE JEWELLERY IN RUSTING

Whenever my mind navigates your inbox
What I find is your glistering thin rods
Worn around the swaying strings
Of your black creations in springs
For sure, you are the jewellery being.

What I know and can ask of you
What I show is something in few
I found skins but not sweating black
I bestowed and adorn your uniqueness
Like the Maasai jewellers in blackness.

Sit on a circular bamboo chair
Bring the wine to soften my mouth
What I am telling is adorable in nature
Spirits of thick forest and sleeping gods
Can break my head into halves and suffer.

The drum beats are danced in rhythms
To let the the song sink in ears like boats
Songs in black tongues provoking beauty
Beauty of natural dancers painting alters
Dust covers the sky and energetic dances.

Africa of the ancient warriors
Africa of the epic ancient tales
Africa of the richest oral tradition
My great great grandpa told in tales
My best stories reside in your beauty
Of traditional values you enriched us.

You taught not pen but harvest and plants
The sky changed to blacken your natures
From black tongue to awful fake tongues
Your farms grow out market not catering
Your sky is full of glistering artificial lights
No longer sindimba but nightclubs in dark
You accept noble death in a vain sights
No longer mubhilizi but pills and injection
I will cry for your noble death and loosing.

FRAGMENTED HEART

THE FRAGMENTED HEART

Broken in pieces
Spoken in peaces
In its absences
Picking troubles
Of the innocence.

Thought was hanged
Brought in wrapped
Twisted to its burst
Burst of reddish fluid
Sweat in glaciers fluid.

Tears of righteous
Falling from rights
Cracking difficulties
Tracing tears beats
Hopping in disguise.

Fragmented heart
Declared humanity
Decadence humility
Destined from guilty
Geared to tranquillity.

BLOOD IN MY PEN

BLOOD IN MY PEN

I found my pen soused in a chap of blood
My pen was crying in reddish tears flood
The hyphen of inhumane had captured
The wrinkle of my pen lined in raptures
When men were celebrating in happiness.

I looked south, west, east and north
I  glimpsed the cries of matured men
Skies were smeared with bloodshed
Like the flesh moon struggling to emerge
Water had engulfed the souls of men.

My pen was in a deep mind blowing
Salvation was hidden in narrow pathway
Blood was the only fantastic drink passion
To quench thirsty of monsters like men
Flickering fetched the souls to rest men.

My pen found rest on towers elevated
My pen spoke of the machete rested
Across the innocent necks and struck
Kids found homes in a smoking lands
Displaced homes like land earthquake.

Blood in my pen, blood in my eyes
Flood in my thought, peace in vain
Souls are fetched like spring waters
Humans are tigers attacking humans
No more peace, no more big smiles.

PSYCHOANALYTIC DRIVES

PSYCHOANALYTICAL  DRIVES

I hold knife, I hold life
Kissing blood in public
Peeping amidst rubric
My minds count presume
Reluctantly reacting reality.

Resentment in nonsense
In predicament hopeless
Mediate dilemmas to rest
Knotty is known as spoonfeed
Looking men underneath feet.

I am the Lion of the jungle field
I am the tooth to streak jumbled
Confidant and hot blooded being
Confide me not of the humanity
For I found home not in tranquillity.

If I say no, don't say yes
This is what I can breath
Out of my will and my fate
I can kill because I am brainless
I can feel guilty in mind absence.

Inflammation in me is like petroleum fires
Gospels are strident awaking disturbance
No compromise to my compiled thoughts
Like hell my heart perceives no righteous
Id - ego - superego work in a disunited.

Jumatatu, 11 Septemba 2017

PEACE IN A LONELY LANE

Regnard Bishoza is a Tanzanian upcoming poet holding Bachelor of Arts with Education (Literature and Linguistics). He is enthusiastic in literary world for peace and humanity. He participated in International World Contest for best Poet and Writer of the world conducted to honour the commemoration of Kazakhstan independence in 2017 and awarded with an International Diploma.

PEACE IN A LONELY LANE

Peace
Peace is hidden
Since no reason
Seeking for it on
The surface bay.

If peace
Would be writings
World would have peace
For writers would write to fade
Of course, peace is living in men.

What? peace
What a cutie jewelry
But costs souls of men
Men are paying homage and
Peace is a deaf god under caves.

Peace waved
His hand and said
"I will come after ten"
Land was bloody and mass
Graves greedy grinded men.

Peace is Noah's ark
Enters few as needle's hole
Lingerie like hidden and hark
To let the mass shout dying cries
Land is deserted dug by flickerings.

Peace is a pupil
People are eyelids
Protecting pupil from attacks
If eyelids fail, pupil is at dangers
If eyelids are active, pupil survives.

Written by : REGNARD BISHOZA
Country : TANZANIA.

Jumatano, 6 Septemba 2017

A NIGHTINGALE SINGS

A NIGHTINGALE SINGS THE SOOTHING ELEGY

Tears drop from the liquidised eyes
Heart aches when it comes to wars
Fought in alien innocent lands poles
First great wars in the African lands
Fetched men from home to bloodshed
On the lands of their gods with heartfelt.

Millions of breaths were buried in graves
Million of breaths in East Zoo found dead
Bayonets and guns found friends in blacks
Adversary ammunition dismembered and
Bloody howling winds to mass killings
Gathering like pearls in alien graves land.

Hunger and starvation permanently lived
Fear and ambition battled in African land
Shedding blood in a no value of futures
Creating smiles to masters, cries to slave
Witnessing incest crimes, killing relative
Sympathy bore brutal treatment cures.

Eyes declare victory in mysterious
Ears perceive vicarious sumptuous
Igniting humanity to complex values
Fate supplementing to vacuum laughs
Fermenting value to noble emptiness
Counting in vain to praise cacophonies.

Jumapili, 3 Septemba 2017

THE STUBBORN MIKE A mike that echoes At distant than Jericho's To reach the entire races The drivers and passengers. Handle me with a mike To cry and let noise Disturb the vagabonds And lazy digesters! Handle me with a mike To blow the horns Like the trumpets To summon the undermined. Mike awakes fight Of fair and spare threat To empower the chameleon To fly higher than the eagle! Thanks for reading Written by Regnard Bishoza

THE STUBBORN MIKE

A mike that echoes
At distant than Jericho's
To reach the entire races
The drivers and passengers.

Handle me with a mike
To cry and let noise
Disturb the vagabonds
And lazy digesters!

Handle me with a mike
To blow the horns
Like the trumpets
To summon the undermined.

Mike awakes fight
Of fair and spare threat
To empower the chameleon
To fly higher than the eagle!

Alhamisi, 24 Agosti 2017

LUDDITES IN THE BATTLEFIELD

LUDDITES IN THE BATTLEFIELD

Fazing feasibly feeding feast
Freezing flickery fiery flinty flit
Forward awkwardly oozing overt
Fluttering freely like flying eaglet.

Shields shimmering in sunshine
Fields shaking in disguise uplift
Rhythm leading wraths of battalion
Regiment bending in tricky and fight.

Victory in life and death harking
Victory rising in red light smiling
Bloody field and displaced linen
Lining tattered to let twisting line.

Luddites in the battlefield
Looking like the defeated
Raising the bloody shield
Declaring victory in blood.

#poetregnardbishoza#

Alhamisi, 3 Agosti 2017

PREGNANT MAN

PREGNANT MAN

With a swollen stomach
In a mystery world and ache
Surprised by a strange wind
Swaying across his homestead.

In a lonely zone of deep thought
Captured by injustice master cause
Bending in a bizarre cave of miracles
Mercilessly tortured by his pregnancy.

Pregnancy from imaginary blackmails
Threatened by jokers and juxtapositions
Delicately monologuing to his organisms
Thinking beyond abortion and suicides.

He was a prostitute and he conceived
He was hospitalized and he confused
He was tricked by sweets and he loved
He was touched to the mystery and end.

They knocked at midnight and midday
They chop-choped for his service delivery
They found shelter to him, he had a smile
He is in a family way to gift job workers.

Jumapili, 23 Julai 2017

TAKE ME OFF THIS PLANET

TAKE ME OFF THIS PLANET

For I only see nothing but darkness
Men are no longer men but beasts
I have been left orphan in lonely world
My refuge to settle all these is only death
Please death come, please don't delay.

I see you smiling afar, not approaching
I see you smiling to my cries and horrors
I kneel requesting you to fetch me death
I cry loudly but voice returns as echoes.

My tears have filled oceans
My fears have killed offence
My peers have deserted me
My people have turned back.

Dear death, be my company
Dear death, be my comfort
With you I will find my peace
With you I will find my paradise.

You're now a deaf
You say I am a noble thief
To steal life rewarded
By the only Creator
And you say
You can't dictate
Life and death
For you only take
But you can't decide.

BEHIND YOUR FUNKY MANSION

BEHIND YOUR FUNKY MANSION

You will find shanties
Few will get downstairs
But this is my homestead
Though I am always golden.

My nature is green and glee
My rapture is greeny and free
But you're as closer as Oxygen
I love neighbours but not visitors.

A visitor came and stole
My baby born and I am null
Left back baby pants tattered
Less in use buried underground.

A cry to reddish eyes is your rape
Fermenting my land you saw help
Racist belief was adorned to fatal
Induction of ancient land and blow
Craving and crushing to emptiness
And I was left with nothing but sobs.

Ijumaa, 21 Julai 2017

MINORITY HIPPOS

MINORITY HIPPOS

Think of satisfying their bellies
Seek of egoistic maneuvers
Like pigs they maintain fatness
Enlarging holes to bury majorities.

The majority pleads
The minority pleases
Their souls to paradise
Fair to innocent fatalities.

World is a faithless ground
Battlefield to loose and gain
Sarcastic life creates fake men
Whose smiles are imaginations.

The alive heroes are decaying corpses
The pleading Lazarus are forthcoming
Inheritors princes and princesses heirs
The crying will be the smiling sons of land.

TO HELL BE BLASPHEMY

TO HELL BE BLASPHEMY

When I was young
Mummy told me
Porridge is sweet
When it is sugary.

God created Adam
God created Eve
Adam was grateful
Eve was likely grateful.

A man and a woman
Join and bring kids
The house is engulfed
With joys and smiles.

A mortar and a pestle
Grind and smoothen
Stubborn mixtures
To find the contents.

A man now a woman!
Let men terrified with
Ugly faces and muscles
For beauty and tenderness
No longer found to men.

Let females terrified with
Feminine body and beauty
For both possess bullet
Lacking guns to shoot.

Let demonic spirit
Quit from Holy place
Let blasphemy civilization
Spare the dying planet
For God is against evil
And angered by evil men.

Alhamisi, 20 Julai 2017

HOLD MY HAND

HOLD MY HAND

To let my body emerge
Out of the bondage hell
To let my humanity raise
Like the sunrise at the east.

Hold my hand
To redeem my blood from shed
At jungles of humanity abasement
At unanswered cries of slaughters.

Hold my hand
To let men see jeweleries from shit
Like doves, let skirts fly over skies
Declaring funerals of innocents.

Hold my hand
To sing the feminist song
Promoting smiles to the grieved
Fixing wheels to run the dying jet.

Hold my hand
To let fists become garments
To let spits and swain be kisses
To let patriarchy bow and humble.

PEACE

PEACE, A MILLIONAIRE

For it's impossible to purchase
Like other products at market
Peace is the treasure hidden
Peace is like silver in an earth
Hard to extract, needs technology.

When constant fightings, hide peace
When disloyalty exists, hides peace
When wars exist, hide tranquility
Protect peace as you protect eyes
For peace is difficult to find after unrest.

*poet Regnard Bishoza*

Jumanne, 11 Julai 2017

ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE

ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE

Illusions illuminate realities
Like the light illuminating skies
Frontal focal bond inculcates realities
Realities residing from lies and ignorance.

Hollow heads haunt hasty haughty
Deceiving in truth and courage mind
Raising platform to perishing race
Naked really but count worn nice.

Images are perceived as real objects
Trivial and false are realities onsets
Truth is the cacophony stubborn hordes
Killing of the saviour is function to praise.

Light disturbs the trivial vision in vain
Light slowly takes trivial to its destination
Sacrifice restores the buried deafen mind
Eternity perish dwells in blackened mind.

Jumamosi, 1 Julai 2017

I AM KNOWING A WOMAN

I AM KNOWING A WOMAN

She is the only glistering star among stars
She is the engineer of mankind pleasing
She is the best tutor of tenderness and romance
Her lips taste sweets and not bitterness
Her voice amplified like the president's microphone
Her truth sounds cool like the morning dew over the leaf.

Smiles and happiness are quality stuffs of hers
Jeweleries and catchy garments are of hers
Chameleon like walk in rhythm, peacock like smiles
Vest satisfaction to her desirable destinies
Gossip is her proportional diet to her thirsty lips.

Rhythmically hissing like the Congo forest snake
In the romantic ocean she adores
Deep voice besides is her supersonic heartbeats
Gnashing her teeth to crack the rocks
Driving recklessly on gravel roads.

She is the artifact creature, artist by nature
Admires kids but hates conceiving
She finally organised the most renowned choir
To be sung by naughty and mad men
I love you from the innermost chamberless heart.

Her smile shook the mankind to death and fate
Her romance summoned poets to tear their inks
Deadly expressing their inflames caused by woman
Love was the title to their splashing poems
Crazy thoughts culminated to genuine philosophies.

LOVE NOT THE INDIAN OCEAN

LOVE NOT THE INDIAN OCEAN

As plentiful as blackberries
The fool mind speculated
As silent as the grave yard
I would listen to her naughties.

Eyes would tell
Tongue would see
Amalgamate her stiff words
She had dead in living minds.

Her smile was my presence
Her cries was my absence
Far reaches zero distance
She was lost in her yards.

In a cobweb homestead
Marked her romance jingles
As sharpest as needles
To flee the love ocean to red.

Cannibal of her own flesh
Terrible to physical mankind
Was coupled in single minded
Hissing in the world of betrays.

Fate and death was her smile
For not caging the black doves
Stress was her affinity for losses
Confusions was her satisfactions.

HOME OF THE STRANGER

HOME OF THE STRANGER

Total darkness will cover the sky
Tropical diseases will call to stay
Traffic vehicles sometimes delay
To let the place home of all cries
But you are my sweet home!

Kids worn in rags and nakedness
Pigs struggling to lay into ponds
Kids counting one ten at schools
Sitting on stones, cracked boards
But you are my sweet home!

Fearing to aeroplane hordes
Is the life of home dwellers
Fearing to white peoples
Men eaters and gods!
But you are my sweet home!

Pills are null and void
Roots are cool and pain killers
Bitter leaves are watery swallowed
Ground nuts butter flavours meals
But you are my sweet home!

Engineers of local made transport
Make cars, bicycles, and motors
From wood, move out of petrol
Salt from water, clothes of barks
But you are my sweet home!

Oral narratives by elders
Around the evening fires
Kids attentively with smiles
Long long ago, king lioness
But you are my sweet home!

POOR MIND

POOR MIND

Take refuge in disguise
Like chameleon changes
To deceive and darkens
The majority and innocents.

Light is beamed with clouds
Sparks erupt and form sparks
Lost pathways lead to looses
For men follow the pathways.

Count emptied spaces void
Haunt into harmless destined
To let the sorbs break into silence
Intelligence is a hidden ignorance.

Fluids purifies the dirty surfings
Floods gushes the deities to hells
To form the altar of purified races
To sooth the fiery minds and souls

THE CIMMERIAN PROMISED LAND

THE CIMMERIAN PROMISED LAND

It was the journey of hopeless
Serendipity dwelt in living hearts
The altar of trivial and egoisms
Was standing before blind ones.

The smiles of the hero was fate
Disintegrating faith of essence
Like the harmattan wind sings
To praise the morning sunrise.

Cries were obliged, mourns fare
Mouths would hear but not air
Crews equalized the sinking ship
Sinking with all cargo like needles.

No one appeared to hoist rescue
Unless the gangs stood alongside
Like statues waiting to greet airs
And launched hypocritic steps.

Many kissed the underneath sand
Fewest unconsciously emerged
Through the hands of enemies
Laid with swollen stomachs
To let out faithless waters
For them to see the lights
Through their fair enemies.

PEACE IN VAIN

PEACE IN VAIN

Trees increase in leaves
Peace decrease in sizes
People increase in ages
Peace decrease in ages.

If peace would be skies
Men would rise and touch
If peace would be goods
Shops would appear empty!

Harmony and tranquility
Is the world song to sing
Like the little light at midnight
Peace is barely seen in darkness.

The world is walking upsidedown
Lacking the direction of destiny
Kids are born in lands of eruption
And become terrorists at youth.

They were born eight
They aired fifty fifty
As the war outbroke
Mother carried puppy
And left the young child.

They were buried alive
Waiting to see deaths
They left the deserted home
And ran to unknown places.

THE AMAZING LANDSCAPE

THE AMAZING LANDSCAPE

Like the sparkling splash
The mind walked in a rhythmic flash
Mounting to the beauty of greenish
Rattering rain in dew and bright sunshine.

As mute as an iceberg, wind blew
Giving life to the swaying grass
Singing the song of colourful blossom
Trees in surprise clapping to the dawn.

Eyes would speak wisely to the beauty
Of the Paradise landscape wondrous
The smooth sunshine emulating the sky
The cool land slept calmly to intensify.

It was the only place to praise
The voices of beautiful angelic birds
Were singing praises of the place uniqueness
Flowers blossoming to colour the miraculous place.

COUNTRY GONE MAD

COUNTRY GONE MAD

Roaming in streets
Naked and collecting trash
Smiling to it with nonsense
Knowing none but emptiness
Praising to it with burning songs.

The tiller of its reputation's grave
Walking on air imagining its hope
Loosing parole like cracky erosion
Abnormal offspring born in millions
Literacy centers teaching ignorance.

Tears of innocents fill the biggest rivers
Fears of humanity kill the largest mass
Gibberish and cruelty irrigate the lands
Fathers cohabit with beauty daughters
Mothers admire handsome and sons.

RUDIMENTARY FAX TO THE COLOURED

RUDIMENTARY FAX TO THE COLOURED

Races faces and origins
Traces paces and spaces
Colours disturb the minds
Innocents cry in loneliness.

Unconditional love to coloured
Is measured in treasured corpus
Descendants of the strange skies
Pollutants of the pure race and skies.

Lamentations dwell in exiled souls
Hypertension cracks the shrink souls
The darkest value illuminated the darks
Bitterness pleases the sweet bondage age

Black skin skin the kin of red fluid
Declaring equity and sameness state
Praising unconditional love of creation
The essence of life like milkway swaying
Over empty space galaxies to fermenting.

Ijumaa, 30 Juni 2017

ALBINISM MY MYSTERY

STOP KILLING ALBINOS OOH MEN!

I was born albino, the skin colour
I was grown well regardless my colour
I was born with siblings, sister and brother
All were albinos as I was but it was fair
Harmony existed by time with a laughter.

It was during the midnight
Sky was cool and silent
All in the house groaning
Except me had nightmares
Nightmares but real ones!
I heard the heaviest falling
The door was broken! restless!

They took my brother through the window
They wrapped him with sacks and threw
A man inside was worn in mask,boot shoe
Outside a man worn in black held him
With a fierce machete he cut both his legs
And they ran in darkness with white legs

He was left in a dying scream and cries
We were all in oceanic tears and cries
Unbelievable news, he was absolutely
In the final difficult breaths and he died!

They say they say
Witch doctors told
For richness, albino's organs
Make people millionaires
And they struggle to obtain
For richness and millionaires
They kill albinos like slaughtering goats!

Hold my hand oh men
Loneliness and cruelties
Make my life full of worries
I live in dreams like yours
To be a pilot I admire most
To be a lawyer is my admiration
To be a doctor is the peace in my heart
To be a politician is my dream to realize
To become a gynecologist is my ambition
Blowing my horn of humanity and equality

I can do the way you do most
I can school and pass remarkably
I can trade and coordinate accounts
I can treat your dying child, restore living
I can be a leader, for good governance
I can be the president to lead the nation.

Hold my hand and I will be
Don't kill me, I deserve living
Legal wealth struggle for it
I am not money,  they are liars
Bad beliefs to let me perish.

Hold my hand,  oh men!
Hold my hand, oh world !

Alhamisi, 29 Juni 2017

STOP CRYING CHILD, I AM HERE

STOP CRYING CHILD, I AM HERE

Weep not, child
Cry not, my child
For your kind mummy
Is milking you handsomely.

Forget of stubborn fries
Forget of the bitter cries
Take a soft pillow and rest
Find rest in my bosom and close eyes.

Don't recall the stubborn neighbours
Call it a cool moment of sovereignties
Fall under your black race of blackness
Smile and suffocate all about blackness.

Think nothing of your grandpa
He was whipped for your better
He is smiling in tomb for your smile
This hut of ours was his dream he realized

Jumatano, 28 Juni 2017

CLEANSE MY HEART O LORD

CLEANSE MY HEART O LORD

For I have left your true paths
Call me and I will hear and respond
Hoist my soul and hang it to paradise
Clean me by hyssop and I will be purified.

I am struggling out of darkness
I am sparkling doubting of harness
I am crucified on a reddish fierce cross
I am walking into thorny terrible pathways.

My heart pumps stinking  sins in veins
My light is engulfed by darkness of perish
My fight to innocence end marathon vain
My sight is lust, my pleasure is the worlds.

Nobility to ignorance of faith
Faith of the mortal and immortal way
Weigh to heaviest than ancient era iron
Anointing pulls my soul to lightness weigh

Smear me with scriptures
Wear me with prophetic garments
Hear my cry and answer my prayers
Spear my heart for I am down to ashes.

#PoetRegnardBishoza#

Jumanne, 27 Juni 2017

I WAS NOT GUILTY

POEM : I WAS NOT GUILTY

That I was guilty, the paper said
That I was guilty, a monster sailed
With sculfs, robes, and chains, I was surrounded
Chained with my sons, all in night dressed.

On my land, I was enslaved
I grew cash and food, but not consumed
Whips over my body, was salary I deserved
My cry was his smile, a baboon, I was named.

I was ignorant, of micro and macro light
Under bondage thought, was my best wealth
My best wealth, resided to my blood of wealth
Pharaoh of ancient, got his successor.

My blood, my cry, my torments
Raise a platform, for future pursuit of happiness
Although I am in a tomb, betterment gonna surpass
I will forget lost hope, victory gonna be my eternity song.

Jumatatu, 26 Juni 2017

THE POWER OF FORGIVENESS

THE POWER  OF FORGIVENESS

Exceeds the value of gold
Binds together the broken chains
Restores peace in broken hearts
Blossoms like the olive green leaves
The unique value of forgiveness.

The value of forgiveness
Weeps off splashing tears
Keeps calm in fierce angers
Like bond, separation meets
Meets at the junction reaches.

And shall love thy enemy
And shalt love thou happy
Like butterfly will fly with
Bundles of love in world
Paradise will live alongside.

And you won't kill but keep life
You will be the paramount chief
Millions of stars descending on you
Like the oceanic sands will multiply thou
Like Abraham will receive glistering life.

#PoetRegnardBishoza#

I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE

OMG!!! I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE!

With you wonderful creature
Eating you dwarf and fresher
Missing jewel colourful leisure
Swaying carrying mind pressure.

Your beauty outweighs everything
Your sweet voice percolate sweety
Pure romance gift and love decree
Tantalizes my mind to poor mad!

Nothing I read careful than you
Nothing I gain dreadful than you
Nothing carries me paradise, you
Wondering to miracles from you!

In imaginary world you take me
Walking slowly confused and er
Reading you in upside down side
Intellectuals bow and speculate!

Your sweetness grows than honey
Your touching flows sparks laying
Engulfing and gnashing my mind
Hanging personality to madness!
OOH POETRY!! HOW MUCH I LOVE

Jumapili, 25 Juni 2017

AND I WILL BE AFRICAN

AND I WILL BE AFRICAN

By seductive, by deductive
I will be African
I will sing African
In a lonely world
World of a wicked.

And I will be African
Gossip will enrich
Reluctance of race
Will sing the lullabies
Letting Africa sleep in me.

And I will be African
When sidelined or praised
When mocked or disguised
Heart will pump Africanism to death
Death of the hero, hero in bravery land.

And I will be African
Land breeze testifies
Sea breeze testifies
Tales of Africa tell
Height of blacks.

And I will sing Africa
Footsteps count Africa
Thighs sway for Africa
Black sweat paints Africa
Smiles attract colours to Africa.

And I will sing Africa
For Africa makes hungry flocks
Gather and find sweetest crops
Whether in a summer or springs
Africa is rich and in love they fell.

Alhamisi, 22 Juni 2017

WHEN IT COMES TO AFRICA

WHEN IT COMES TO AFRICA

Mind navigate to unusual beauty
Mind is hanged to abnormality
Counting the abundance riches
Like the Emperor's sacredness.

I lonely found in monology
I obstinately found in apology
For I knew Africa beyond the sky
Warmly lost in nightmare of jingling.

I sat on a sacred traditional chair
Carrying the cow horn hording in air
Letting cattle amazingly node in fair
To the reggae like rhythm soothed pair.

The image of beautiful kids and mamas
Invaded my mind and ended in admires
Yams, potatoes, ugali, hanged my desires
Raffia gowns, neckless odour uniqueness.

I found millionaires in Africa
Owning tales of essence in Africa
Could find no eternal rest but Africa
Could learn classic smile in lonely Africa
Taught negritude song last ever in Africa.

Jumatatu, 19 Juni 2017

THE MASSIVE FLICKERING BARREL

THE MASSIVE FLICKERING BARREL

Vigorously replaced the landscapes
Vigorously shook sky with explosions
Innocents were found in a darkness
Smiles faded, cries decorated surface.

The massive flickering barrel
Shed blood flowing like floods
Fed the land with died bodies
Manifesto to self fate genocides.

The massive flickering barrel
Purged souls to wage guerilla
Barrel slaughtered and ignited
Pieces of bodies at the arena
Spoke in disguise and lamented.

Tranquility was told in commemoration
Sublimity seeking in vain conveyance
Destruction was the treasure to hide
Reputation was found in multi killings.

Offsprings were born on deserted land
Hawking here on withered worse land
Living in tattered and filthy like shanty
Like puppies twitching in unpropitious.

Jumatano, 14 Juni 2017

I WISH I WOULD BE

I WISH I WOULD BE

Ignorant of the disciplines
Omnipotence of my ministries
Omnipresence to my nude wishes
Rectifying the fixed ways of living.

I wish I would be
Madman regretting the fair ways
Find comfort in jungle and lonely
Wear in rags, smile to nonsense.

I wish I would be
Blind of entire unfair treatments
Inhumane actions by the parrots
Perceive nothing but fair darkness.

I wish I would be
Deaf from the stubborn noises
Death to central nervous systems
Faint forever vain aggressor pains.

I wish I would be
Poor of wealth, rich of wisdoms
Sour taste to humility, love lives
Pour sweet for others, I will then.

DEATH OF THE POET

DEATH OF THE POET

Death of the poet
Whether early or late
In battle or in bed
Accidental or self inflicted
Carries his ultimately fatal price.

Death of a poet
Is the freedom of swindles
And the fate to downtrodden
For poet is a sacrificial victimized
Blood is his smiling death warrant!

The poet's preference
Wears in warm slippers
And dwells in pickled onions
Racing to the cricket and scores
Personal disaster to marvelous write!

Jumanne, 13 Juni 2017

PASSION OF THE WRETCHED HEART

PASSION OF THE WRETCHED HEART

Finds grace in disgrace
Finds hoping in hopeless
Finds strength in weakness
Smiles in lonely mockeries
Finds light in total darkness.

Passion of the wretched heart
Tortures the lonely stubborn thought
Conquers the honest stabbing spears
Like lightning strikes the high creatures
Grinding solids to softness and stillness. 

Passion of the wretched heart
Stays majestically in mysterious
Like an owl singing the evil songs
At the midst of cool and silence night
Creating fears and tears to the ignorant.

Passion of the wretched heart
Soothes the negligible thought
Finds destiny in a vain disarray
Like the dawn illuminating sky
From total darkness and sparks.

Passion of the wretched heart
Covers blood with Holy waters
Outbursts ignitions with screams
Taking pains with smiles of heart
Feelings companion in loneliness.

Ijumaa, 9 Juni 2017

PSALMS 139 : MY DAYS ARE NUMBERED

PSALMS 139

MY DAYS ARE NUMBERED

Countable before Hunchback ipso facto,
Terrible before lighten hearts ipso facto,
Sine die thy days life in darkened episode,
Flaws dwell hard proforma like Hard rock.

Death lays his icy hands on Majesty kings,
Worthy life living in faith built in the rocks,
Walking with death grabbed by the heroes,
Sighting above tomorrow and see lights!

Countable days, moons, year and years
Descend from high thy soul frankly knows
Thy soul standing on Babel tower and rests
Aquarium I rest with comfort of bright life!

Earthquake vigorously shake the mankind
Minty light soul surrender and surrenders
Trembling for mouse shuffles and sways
Honors rooting in dishonours of thee fate

My days are numbered
My failures are honoured
My days are of the paramount
My eyes are like of the rifle telescopic
Stood in hard faith than the Holy Temples.

HOME OF HUMILIATION

HOME OF HUMILIATION

Made people appear in rags
Soiled and worn in canvas
They were the freed slaves
Carrying luggage like horses
Cries were their daily songs
Sworn to nonsense into foolish ears!

One was nakedly whipped
Once trying to raise voices
Ignorant vegetations mourned
To the daily cries of slaves
Humanity was worn in cruelty
Pleasing the heartless masters!

He was the smiling but cruel master
She man in his appearance and walker
She once trapped with wild grass
She cried for the help from slaves
They came and mercilessly stabbed
His humiliating and worth dying body!

I NEED A WOMAN

I NEED A WOMAN

To scrub my back gently with fragrant oil
To let my skin witness the professional
Role of the honest massage technician
Let her skin be smoother than the cotton wool
To let my skin hair stand with an amazing look
Let her smile blossom than the morning sunrise.

I need a woman
Whose ears digest the deep voice of my desires
Like a good Samaritan should hold my inner fires
Let her heartbeats count the endless love to me
Let her attack my mind and hang them to the paradise
Grinding my heart to extremely softness and colonised.

I need a woman
Whose footsteps and footprints leave back the seal of my image
Her blood vessels should carry my love splash
Her pillow should be my heart
Her elbow should be my light
To let my eyes see nothing but
her overwhelming peculiarity
Let my eyes sight the only woman of my only homestead.

WHEN PEACE DESERTS

WHEN PEACE DESERTS

The land is filled with tears, blood and destructions
The nation is built with explosions and genocides
Children are recruited to take arms and wear bullets
Women are killed, infants suck milk from the dead  bodies
Tombs lavish and bodies are buried on the earth surface
Churches become soul refuge and life end in Holy places.

When peace deserts
Officials flee with crafts and smile down to the dying innocents
Rapes surpass to sooth the evil men with tattered brains
Machetes struck necks and struck bodies to pieces
Bodies are buried in passports while in one's breath
Land is deserted with its nature, seeking refuge in alien.

When peace deserts
Fear is adorned, peace is in a narrowest path of reach
Men become vultures collecting bodies and consuming
Men become rich, men sell fiery arms to kill the natives
Under the awful agreement, praising wars to last forever.
Daughters take roles of the dead mothers!

I FELT IMPRISONMENT

I FELT IMPRISONMENT

For my muscular words
Explode from my innocent mouth
Disintegrating the most giant castles
Like the parachute they carried fighters
To the glorious sky and found victorious.

Crippled walked, deaf perceived
Blind saw the light and I was kept
In the valley of sleeping eternity
I was the bit, dustbin of all trashes
Carrying lazy walkers like railways.

I was the apposite opposite
Wronging to their veiled vain
Handcuffs cracked around my hands
Warranty they weren't but humiliations
Alas! It was nightmare invaded shelters.

I felt imprisonment
And smiles blossomed facials
For pen's mightier than warriors!
Loved humanity cradle to the graves
For I was the real father of grandpas!

Alhamisi, 8 Juni 2017

THE HIDDEN TREASURE

THE HIDDEN TREASURE

Nocked nonsense mild mind
To the hollow way and vanish
Light hidden at midst of veiled
Fight in vacuum self amalgamation.

Eyes lost and heard
Ears lost and perceived
Crippled walked in majestic
Deaf showed the way with clarity.

The right path hidden in vain
The wrong path widely visible
Millions took wrong and perished
The hidden treasure tortured the crowd.

Hordes of cries sweetened the path
Pokes of ignorance heightened pass
Bittersweets soothed fiery and souls
The hidden treasure at rest disturbance.

CORRUPTED TEMPLE

CORRUPTED TEMPLE

Worshipping the evil spirits
Hopping to enrich thy pockets
Sermons summon offerings
Sermons preach millionaires
The poor is strictly prohibited.

Songs praise cohabitation
Glory descend to the hell
God mentioned hypocritic
Nakedness is proud on altars
Romance fair to power anointing.

Beers, cigarettes are quenching thirsty
Fears of scriptures is buried underneath
False teachings deceive the ignorant
Scriptures emanates from gibberish
At night and privacy support the evils.

Choir singers are worn in night dress
To warm the evil temple with anoints
Preachers hide their masks and mats
To let the flourish of money  fill sacks
Guitars sing smoothly with jazz bands.

Jumatano, 7 Juni 2017

WHEN PEACE DESERTS

THE HIDDEN TREASURE

THE HIDDEN TREASURE

Nocked nonsense mild mind
To the hollow way and vanish
Light hidden at midst of veiled
Fight in vacuum self amalgamation.

Eyes lost and heard
Ears lost and perceived
Crippled walked in majestic
Deaf showed the way with clarity.

The right path hidden in vain
The wrong path widely visible
Millions took wrong and perished
The hidden treasure tortured the crowd.

Hordes of cries sweetened the path
Pokes of ignorance heightened pass
Bittersweets soothed fiery and souls
The hidden treasure at rest disturbance.

Thanks for reading
Poet Regnard Bishoza

FAITHLESS PACKED GINS

FAITHLESS PACKED DRY GIN.

That a human being would die alive
Like a thunderstorm striking the bull
The vacuum heads're found in dark hell
From the corrupted world of fair madmen.

Family's eyes would find refuge to thee
He was Professor in Engineer and Maths
He was poor morally and self awareness
Viroba was his meals and found a fair rest

The country's lamenting of personnel lack
For energy is dying of gins and to the AIDS
Ganging, robbery, terrorism is rampant
The world is not at rest, but in instability 
Road accidents, awful and fake surgeries.

All and sundry, say NO to drug trafficking
Spare health cancer, let tranquility dwell
Let women, men stop addiction to religion
The world will be the pearl, peace island.

THE CORRUPTED TEMPLE

CORRUPTED TEMPLE

Worshipping the evil spirits
Hopping to enrich thy pockets
Sermons summon offerings
Sermons preach millionaires
The poor is strictly prohibited.

Songs praise cohabitation
Glory descend to the hell
God mentioned hypocritic
Nakedness is proud on altars
Romance fair to power anointing.

Beers, cigarettes are quenching thirsty
Fears of scriptures is buried underneath
False teachings deceive the ignorant
Scriptures emanates from gibberish
At night and privacy support the evils.

Choir singers are worn in night dress
To warm the evil temple with anoints
Preachers hide their masks and mats
To let the flourish of money  fill sacks
Guitars sing smoothly with jazz bands.

JUDGES 2:19

Dedicated to magical poet Awotide Oluwaseun Micheal

JUDGES 2:19

For their forefathers
Grew in righteousness
And fell in desperations
God forgave with offertories.

The Canaan was hidden
Before thy evil practices
Fearful respected Hunchback
And left the offspring lineage.

Thy later emerged generation
Dwelt in terrible sins and evils
Trillion doubled from forefathers
Passions and corruption were theirs.

The righteous God left them with
Their idols and wrong flourishes
They died in theirs what is evils
Destined in fair perish and hells.

The ocean of tears splash from eyes
The option of fears conquer the souls
For the righteous is dying in their eyes
The vacuum of savior is told in a vain.

Prayers wash away transgressions
Prayers show justice and righteousness
Prayers de-corrupt the perishing souls
Prayers, build Holy living and humanities.

WHEN DILEMMA KNOCKS

When Dilemma Knocks

Waves fight the ocean's stillness
Caves find themselves in loneliness
Minds of men sway to climb trees
In a narrow way of vain destinations.

Dilemma enthrones scares and hopeless
Trauma dwells and swells in hollowness
Wits is deemed with vagabondage veins
Sinking smoothly into the red apartments.

Minds is darkened with flashy hastings
Hinges hang over the cruelest hustles
Er dawn find outbroken forceful fires
Eyes bend in disguise to bury fears.

Arithmetic mental disintegrations
Pursuit the mental illness and fates
Cubic reach of thoughts rests cleverness
Public disgrace elongates to nakedness.

ARISE AFRICA

TANZANIA AND NIGERIA COME TOGETHER, AS REGNARD BISHOZA & TANIMONURE RICHARDS ADEWALE CRY OUT:

ARISE: UNITED NATIONS OF AFRICA (UNA)

from the jungle of this neo-slavery,
smiling your past of awful story,
africa, arise!
let your name be newly rebirthed,
as one blood, one bond, one tongue
of a proud pen's joy of one strong song.

africa,
the hot sands sings your might;
the savannahs smile your beauty;
the beaches brim your sweetness
as excited waves of bliss on skins;
and the gallant forests,
the green uniformed forests,
as gallant guards over your riches,
stands a splendour of sky eyes.

africa,
hospitality is your language;
magnanimity is your tongue;
tranquillity is the speech of your lips
as colourful cultures of your being.

and your riches gleamed a grim
of hungry throats as long greediness
of white sight as dark heart invite,
a ravaging slavery of ruin robbers,
who raped and plundered
and tore much asunder,
your name as diaspora pieces
of scattered screams of unity;
yet, standing strong and tall,
yet, brimming thick and rich
as more evil hunger of unsatisfied belly.

and it comes, much worse again,
dark sight of white heart of pain,
tearing your blood and bond apart,
searing your heart with wars, genocide,
trading guns for gold, diamonds and oil,
an exchange of wealth for wailing woes
of masses' massive death, poverty untold.

it comes again, horror of corruption,
strangling life from lives of one nation,
as your pride of big brother wide,
gasping its stand as a leader, right.

africa, arise!
be free from white charms, dark;
be free from white attack, stark!
stop cutting your nose, bloody,
to spite your face, painful ugly;
come strong, that song, of one tongue
as a dirge of death on white joy
of a dismembered pieces of colonial triumph.

africa, arise!
let your story be newly rebirthed
as one blood, one bond, one tongue
of a proud pen's joy galore.

africa, arise!!!

I AM A CHEAP PROSTITUTE

I AM A CHEAP PROSTITUTE

I am ebony, black beauty lady
I am seductive, glancing to hook men
I am sweet to let them undergo crazy
They're rich to destruct my natural beauty!

My swaying hips, my big boobs
Made them live and forget their wives
I am nurse to nurse the suffering patients
I am a merciful lady to serve the deserts.

I am HIV positive and they are careless
I am dying today and they have no eyes
I am living on ARV and they have no eyes!
But serve them for I am a cheap prostitute

They destroyed my ugly virginity
And now I am the public serenity
My midst is navigable freely by snakes
I am a prostitute to quench their thirstiest.

I hook them with lyrical rhythmical cries
I took them to addiction and I am dead
Milk splash over my cursed pawpaws
My naughty haunt to count hollows.

Because they deceive me with presents
Because they believe me as coast beach
I am dying today, they are dying next days
For a black is a pot to roast the white rice.

BECAUSE YOU ARE MINE

BECAUSE YOU ARE MINE

Because you are mine
I sing the patriotic song
To fill my heart with flames
To feel proud of being a black
A black of the promised heritage.

Because you are mine
My eyes speak of your landscapes
Beautiful than the paramount princess
Your beauty invade the eyes of strangers
Like naughty eyes to the swaying hips.

Because you are mine
I tell your tales with majestic tongue
Telling Olduvai Gorge's first human skull
Egyptian pyramids, calendar technologies
The wonders of Kilimanjaro, Mawenzi hills

Because you are mine
I sing the lullaby soothing songs
To let you sleep and stop the cries
Pained by merciless mothers and slaps
I play ngoma for it's my music you taught.

Because you are mine
White teeth count 32 for classic smile
Your name is sweet in my bitter mouth
Your star illuminate from top of mountain
Your scars are the pillow of my happiness.